Obviously, all of these entries cannot be about the South. It would be too depressing for me and too boring for those who are reading it. So, I will also be writing about the random day to day occurences that seem only to happen to me. As I referred to previously, I have a broken elbow from a spill I took while running. Just as background, this is not the first time that I have injured myself doing something that most people do to relax. Some may call me clumsy. You may make your own judgment at the end of this post.
I grew up around running. My parents used to run together, and when I got old enough, I would ride my bike while my dad ran beside me. I actually ran into a car on my bike doing that, but again, another story. Later, I began running with my dad. My father is an aggressive runner. He fully believes, as I do, that pedestrians have the right of way. If a car pulls up too close to him when he is running, he will actually hit the hood. If this has happened to anyone in the Birmingham area, that was probably my father. I apologize for both of us.
In 2003, my friend and I were running and both stepped on a sewer grate at the exact same time. The grate flipped up in the air, and my friend fell into the ground, her foot trapped under the metal plate. I got out of the hole, but had a huge gash on my thigh from where the grate scraped me as it was falling towards my friend. When we actually got the grate off my friend, she had to run to the car and pick me up so, in my words, "I wouldn't bleed to death." Our roommates thought we had been mugged when we actually arrived home. Looking down at that scar now, I probably should have gotten stitches. I also probably should have sued the city, and maybe I wouldn't be in the financial predicament I am in now!
About five weeks ago, I went for a run. I was on the last stretch, running down the hill to our condo. Some call it a runner's high, others may be focusing on picking up their time for that last quarter mile. I was just not paying attention. I was rocking out to my IPod when I tripped over the sidewalk and went flying forwards. I tried to do the, "stop, drop and roll" move that they teach you in elementary school, but my momentum was too strong. I put my arms out in front of me to keep from damaging my face, and skidded to a stop on my left side. THEN I completed the roll into the grass. I am not sure how long I laid there dazed and bloody, but I know that none of the cars that drove past stopped to see if I was ok. Luckily I was so close to home, I was able to stumble down the hill and get into our apartment. Mike's face was so surprised. Usually the injuries that I create in my head do not constitute this type of reaction!
Four days later, when I couldn't pick up a toothbrush, we went to the doctor. I found out it was my elbow that was broken (who does that??) and I had sprained my wrist. I have been in a sling for the past five weeks and told not to run. (Yes, I asked the doctor in a sweet southern twang if it would be ok if I ran just a little bit.) Two days later I tripped on something in our room and fell to the floor, putting out my broken arm to brace my fall. I returned to the doctor, who showed me that the fracture had gotten bigger. (Again, no running allowed.) I will be returning for another visit next Tuesday. Will keep you posted!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Lullabelle Versus The Construction
A little background about my sweet cat, Lullabelle. She became a part of my family halfway through my first year of law school. I named her before I even picked her out, and then went on a shelter website to find my perfect kitten. Quite honestly, I ended up loving her through a little bit of false advertising. When I saw her picture, she was a kitten, only a few months old. While corresponding with her foster mother, I was never told that the kitten picture was taken when Lullabelle came to the shelter, a YEAR before. When I arrived to pick her up, (money paid, contract signed) I picked up a full grown cat!
Needless to say, this did not change my decision, and Lullabelle has been by my side for the last four years. She is very skittish because she spent a year in the shelter, and it takes her awhile to warm up to people. Fast forward to 2008. Lullabelle is packed up in her carrier and driven 8 hours north. She is welcomed into a home that has NO WALLS because there is a leak in the condo and no one can figure out where it is coming from. As a boy, Mike did not seem very concerned that there were no walls to hang pictures on and that he was staring at insulation and wooden beams all day. Quite soon after I arrived, the construction men were working on putting the walls back up.
Because Lullabelle is so skittish I didn't worry about her whereabouts while the men were working. I assumed she was hiding, at which she is an expert. When I moved out of my house in Mississippi, I was convinced that she ran away. We could not find her anywhere. 5 hours later, I found her hiding under a crumpled up bridesmaids dress. Back to St. Louis - I did not see my sweet cat all day. I went running and came back to ask Mike if he had seen her. It was when he started worrying that I started to freak out. We noticed that when we called her name we could hear her meowing, but could not place where she was. When we realized that she was sealed back into the wall behind a piece of cement drywall, I started crying hysterically.
My superman, Mike, unscrewed the wall and yanked it off. This was in the bathroom, so Lullabelle had jumped into the wall and then crawled under the bathtub. As soon as the wall came off, we heard her meowing. We placed a jar of tuna fish on the tub and she hopped right out like nothing had happened! Watch your animals closely - you never know what adventures they will decide to take each day!
Needless to say, this did not change my decision, and Lullabelle has been by my side for the last four years. She is very skittish because she spent a year in the shelter, and it takes her awhile to warm up to people. Fast forward to 2008. Lullabelle is packed up in her carrier and driven 8 hours north. She is welcomed into a home that has NO WALLS because there is a leak in the condo and no one can figure out where it is coming from. As a boy, Mike did not seem very concerned that there were no walls to hang pictures on and that he was staring at insulation and wooden beams all day. Quite soon after I arrived, the construction men were working on putting the walls back up.
Because Lullabelle is so skittish I didn't worry about her whereabouts while the men were working. I assumed she was hiding, at which she is an expert. When I moved out of my house in Mississippi, I was convinced that she ran away. We could not find her anywhere. 5 hours later, I found her hiding under a crumpled up bridesmaids dress. Back to St. Louis - I did not see my sweet cat all day. I went running and came back to ask Mike if he had seen her. It was when he started worrying that I started to freak out. We noticed that when we called her name we could hear her meowing, but could not place where she was. When we realized that she was sealed back into the wall behind a piece of cement drywall, I started crying hysterically.
My superman, Mike, unscrewed the wall and yanked it off. This was in the bathroom, so Lullabelle had jumped into the wall and then crawled under the bathtub. As soon as the wall came off, we heard her meowing. We placed a jar of tuna fish on the tub and she hopped right out like nothing had happened! Watch your animals closely - you never know what adventures they will decide to take each day!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
The First Chapter
I have lived in the south all my life. For those not from the South, the culture and love for this part of the nation is hard to understand. There is, however, some sort of different feeling that Southerners have for the place where they live. I was born in Nashville, TN and moved to Birmingham, AL when I was two years old. I stayed there until I was sent off to college, choosing Tulane University in Lousiana. Four years later, I returned to Birmingham and later completed law school in Mississippi. All of these moves are simply to show that I have never lived outside of the south. Yes, I traveled growing up, but that is not the same thing as actually moving to a new state and adjusting to the nuances of its region.
Why would I choose to move from the beloved South to dark and mysterious St. Louis? Yes, the answer is: a boy. After dating for five years, (three of them long distance) I decided to bite the bullet and move to Missouri for a year and a half. I would pass the bar exam and begin practicing law while Mike quickly completed his PhD. Simple. We would be back in Alabama in a blink of an eye. Funny where life takes us. Things never quite work out the way you envision them. One year later, I am still trying to fit into an entirely foreign culture. People do not wave while I pass them on my daily jog. I first took this as offensive until I realized that they were wondering why in the world I was staring at them. I battled my first winter where snow and ice are a normal occurrence, not an opportunity for the entire city to shut down. Additionally, I slipped on the ice and knocked my head on the corner of our stairs because they had not been salted properly. I have learned to call a carbonated beverage by its rightful name, not just a “coke.” I have gone an entire year without eating grits.
So where are we now? Mike is still working on his PhD and I am working in Pottery Barn Kids for $8/hr. Apparently, a law degree does not do much for you when you don’t have a lot of contacts in a city.I broke my elbow during my daily jog after I tripped and fell on the concrete sidewalk, scraping the entire left side of my body. No one stopped to see if I was ok. We have lived through my cat being sealed inside our wall after maintenance was completed, fights about turning a bachelor pad into a home , and slowly realizing that the beach is not 5 hours away. The lost cat, the broken elbow and the "growing pains" of turning a condo into a place for both a girl and a boy are different blogs in themselves.
I do not mean this blog to be offensive to people in MO, or to others outside of the South. I have met some fantastic people here, but still miss my family and friends whom I grew up with. I miss the idea that a town is small enough that people know each other’s business, but big enough that there are still people you have not met. Slowly I am adjusting and learning. I am learning to cook and become a better housekeeper (maybe just ANY type of housekeeper.). I have become quite close to my Netflix queue as Mike often works late, and I am attempting to limit the phone calls to my mother to only three a day. There is still so much to learn and adjust to before we end up moving again! Hopefully this blog will be a therapeutic tool for me as I navigate through this new "yankee" land.
Why would I choose to move from the beloved South to dark and mysterious St. Louis? Yes, the answer is: a boy. After dating for five years, (three of them long distance) I decided to bite the bullet and move to Missouri for a year and a half. I would pass the bar exam and begin practicing law while Mike quickly completed his PhD. Simple. We would be back in Alabama in a blink of an eye. Funny where life takes us. Things never quite work out the way you envision them. One year later, I am still trying to fit into an entirely foreign culture. People do not wave while I pass them on my daily jog. I first took this as offensive until I realized that they were wondering why in the world I was staring at them. I battled my first winter where snow and ice are a normal occurrence, not an opportunity for the entire city to shut down. Additionally, I slipped on the ice and knocked my head on the corner of our stairs because they had not been salted properly. I have learned to call a carbonated beverage by its rightful name, not just a “coke.” I have gone an entire year without eating grits.
So where are we now? Mike is still working on his PhD and I am working in Pottery Barn Kids for $8/hr. Apparently, a law degree does not do much for you when you don’t have a lot of contacts in a city.I broke my elbow during my daily jog after I tripped and fell on the concrete sidewalk, scraping the entire left side of my body. No one stopped to see if I was ok. We have lived through my cat being sealed inside our wall after maintenance was completed, fights about turning a bachelor pad into a home , and slowly realizing that the beach is not 5 hours away. The lost cat, the broken elbow and the "growing pains" of turning a condo into a place for both a girl and a boy are different blogs in themselves.
I do not mean this blog to be offensive to people in MO, or to others outside of the South. I have met some fantastic people here, but still miss my family and friends whom I grew up with. I miss the idea that a town is small enough that people know each other’s business, but big enough that there are still people you have not met. Slowly I am adjusting and learning. I am learning to cook and become a better housekeeper (maybe just ANY type of housekeeper.). I have become quite close to my Netflix queue as Mike often works late, and I am attempting to limit the phone calls to my mother to only three a day. There is still so much to learn and adjust to before we end up moving again! Hopefully this blog will be a therapeutic tool for me as I navigate through this new "yankee" land.
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